I just want to apologize for taking so long to update. You guys were awesome with your reviews and I forgot to mention that I had an extremely busy weekend ahead of me. Anyway, I didn't get to actually write this until Monday and then I had to get it edited and whatnot, so the delay for this chapter ended up being A LOT longer than I thought. Again, you guys deserved it earlier, and if you review this one with the same tenacity, I promise I will be quick as a bunny with the next part ;)
So, Ica, my little impatient reader (j/k), this one's for you!
Enjoy, everyone, and thank you so much,
~Joey~
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
-The Hours After-
Chapter 17
The rush and sheer shock of the moment halt all momentum. I can feel the light rise and fall of my chest counting out the milliseconds before I respond. Truthfully, I don't know how I'm supposed to react to this. I feel so devastated and lost, and I can honestly say that at this very moment, I just want to die. I don't want to see what comes of this, because deep down in my heart, I know that no outcome could be favorable.
I feel the sudden urge to bolt forward, but at the same time, I want to curl up in a ball on the floor and never face the world again. Nothing about anything makes sense. And worse, I can't even begin to fathom what I would do if I were to make the wrong decision on what action to take. I certainly wouldn't be able to live with myself.
I thought I heard somewhere that in these high-stress environments, the inner 'emergency' control is supposed to click on. I can't say I feel it - in fact, I feel so completely out of control it makes my whole body shake in fear. I try to yell, but I can't open my mouth. I try desperately to move, but my feet resemble two sticks in mud, the more I struggle, the deeper I sink with no hope of rescue.
My vision is hazy, and the pounding resonates in my head so loudly, that I'm sure it's the only audible sound in the entire building. Through my distorted sight, I catch a glimpse of Faith's terrified eyes. Though her fear is clear, I know her well enough to recognize that she's sad. I can see it behind her forthright emotions - I can see what other people can't. If only such a useless skill could help me -or her- right now.
I have only been standing here for nine or ten seconds, but I'm sure the visions and emotions of this moment will haunt me for the rest of my life. I tear my eyes away from Faith's knowing that the longer I take in her distress, the less chance I will actually find the strength to act. This is it, I mean, have to do something.
I look down at the floor and try to swallow, subconsciously knowing I will have to use my voice, though I haven't a clue what I'm actually going to say.
"Boscorelli," though spoken quite quietly, the sound is deafening and causes me to flinch in surprise and anger. "You," she takes her gun away from Faith's head for a second, making a swirling gesture with the barrel to emphasize just how much she much despises me. The feeling is mutual.
"You just had to go and make it all RIGHT." she smiles sadistically before shooting her dark eyes back in my direction. "You STUPID SON OF A BITCH!"
She's laughing now, and my stomach turns at the sickening sound. Nothing about this scenario calls for laughter.
"You were never smart, were you? I could have asked you to sign a piece of paper that said you murdered some innocent soul, and you know what? You would have done it."
I'm not sure what she's trying to get at here. I'm pretty sure that everyone in this building already has an opinion on my degree of stupidity. I don't think much convincing was involved.
She pauses and does everything but shoot daggers out of her eyes. Does she expect me to say something? Defend myself? I don't need her to tell me what I moron I am for trusting her. I already know that. I don't see why Faith has to suffer for my low IQ and lack of common sense.
"So, this is how it has to be. I have to hold a gun to a New York City police officer, because YOU just couldn't follow the plan. You're... You're AN IDIOT, BOSCORELLI!"
I hear her, but her voice is wavering. It takes me a second to realize that it's not her, it's me. I can't hold a steady feed of all the sensory stimulation that's being thrown in my direction. I blink, but the efforts are futile. Things are changing shades and shapes and I feel like I'm tilting sideways despite the fact that I can feel my feet firmly panted on the floor below me. Something's really not right here.
I don't know if I'm going to last long enough to actually do anything. Cruz seems to have stopped her 'Bosco has no brain' speech for the time being. I don't know why, but I feel like I've missed something, though I'm almost positive I heard every word she said.
I turn my eyes sideways slightly, and I can just barely make out Davis' grim face. He too looks sad, like he's attending a funeral. I wish he would do something. Can't anyone in this freakin' room DO SOMETHING? Because right now, I'm not so sure I can.
I suddenly feel a choking sensation grip my throat. Oh shit, I can't breathe. There's a loud ringing in my ears and I feel my feet stumble forward to catch my faltering body. There's a hand on my shoulder and it manages to pull me backwards a step, preventing me from falling on my face. I still can't breathe, and my once wavering eye-sight has now completely failed me - a sea of white becomes my only visual.
I know I haven't passed out, because I can feel someone's hand on my back. I don't know who it is, and I don't care to find out. The ringing is sporadically interrupted by the shrill yelling of Cruz. I think she's telling me to stand up. I figure she's either talking to me or Faith, and last I saw, Faith was standing, but then again, so was I.
I don't remember falling, and I can no longer tell if I'm standing or lying down. I might as well be suspended in mid air because I'm pretty sure this is what it feels like to be floating. Someone's quietly talking in my ear, telling me to breathe. I know I'm breathing because first of all, I can hear myself gasping as I struggle to inhale, and second of all, I wouldn't be conscious right now if I hadn't been taking in oxygen for the last minute.
There's a steady fluctuation in temperature. One second I'm boiling hot, the next I'm freezing cold. Though I'd rather be in the middle, I think that I would prefer one steady extreme over the drastic changes that cause my whole body to shudder in shock. What scares me even more is that I'm getting used to this. I never thought I would appreciate the fear that accompanies such a severe reaction, but it's scarier to think that it's normal. Is this what I've become? I thought I'd eat my gun - or at least have someone feed it to me - before I got to this point.
At the very least, I think I've distracted Cruz's attention for the time being. Maybe if she thinks I'm dying, she'll feel she's accomplished her goal and let Faith go. Wow, apparently I've become naïve in my illness.
Spots of color begin to replace the whiteness, and slowly I begin to make out rough shapes and figures. The ringing is still apparent, but I can hear the voices of those around me through the aggravating noise. One by one, my senses restore to a less than adequate level, but at least it's something.
I can see again, and after blinking several times, I am surprised to see that I'm not lying down, as I had assumed. In fact, I haven't moved an inch. The only person that seems to have changed position is Davis, who's now at my side, holding onto my shoulder with a firm grasp.
I look at him questioningly, and he seems to understand my confusion. What the hell just happened here? Did anyone even notice that I was completely separated from my body? Apparently not. Cruz still has that 'I hate the world' look on her face and Faith is exactly how I left her - terrified.
Who was Cruz telling to stand up? Was I hallucinating? Maybe someone grabbed a gun. Stupid bastards, if there's one thing I learned, it's that Cruz sees EVERYTHING. I think she might just actually be Satan.
"Look what you did!"
Who? Me? What the hell is this crazy bitch talking about? Last I checked, she's the one that's holding a gun to the head of a fellow employee. I don't think I had very much to do with it.
"Is this what you wanted all along? I know you don't give a rat's ass about yourself, Bosco, but there are other ways to get to people. You showed me your soft spot and I went in for the kill. That's what I mean, Boscorelli - you don't use your head."
I might not use mine, but I'm pretty sure she's lost hers. She's completely out of control. I'M completely out of control. No one can do anything. What does she want? She hasn't even made any requests.
"So, someone's going down today, and there's gonna be no more of this bull shit. I'm almost positive no one's going to miss their target this time," she says while pushing the gun forcefully into Faith's temple.
"So who's it gonna be, Bosco? You?" she asks, tilting the gun in my direction, "Me? Or her?" she says the last part with a smile on her face. I think I'm gonna throw-up.
"What do…" I stop to retry, as my voice did not cooperate, "What do you want, Cruz?" It comes out raspy, but comprehendible.
"What do I want? I WANT SOMEONE TO PAY! You little DO GOODERS haven't put away HALF as much scum as I have, and now you've all DECIDED that I'm just TOO MUCH FOR YOU? Well THAT just doesn't CUT IT! So now, I've got to take matters into my own hands. Clearly," she says nodding at Faith, "I have."
"So, why not me?" I know I'm swaying, but I have to remain focused - this is just too important.
"YOU weren't the one in that room. YOU weren't telling me that I'm going to spend the rest of my life in prison. And more importantly, YOU weren't here."
"But now I am."
"Now you are," she agrees. I might actually be getting somewhere.
"So why don't you just take me?"
"Take you where, Bosco?"
Is she kidding me? Is this turning into a word game? I don't want to play her messed up games anymore. I'm far too tired for this. Just take the gun away from Faith's head.
I don't know how to respond to her last question. I subtly gaze around the room and see that there are only four or five other people present - all equally shell shocked. Swersky looks like he's going to cry. The other three are statues in the cross-fire of words. Davis is my physical support, making sure I remain standing.
The physical and emotional distress combine to form the most uncomfortable of all pains. I can't imagine feeling any worse. This has got to be rock bottom.
"Are you gonna do something?" I might as well ask her what I'm thinking. She's certainly not giving me any free answers.
"Am I going to DO something? You're DAMN RIGHT I'm gonna DO something!"
"Jesus, Cruz," my voice has dropped in it's increasing shakiness, "You're one crazy bitch."
I regret the words before they even completely exit my mouth. I know that being called a bitch sets her off like a firecracker.
She doesn't even bother responding with words, but instead she throws Faith to the ground. Davis quickly removes his hand from my shoulder and I stumble forward. Before I can regain my balance and return my gaze to Cruz, the deafening crack of repetitive gunfire cuts through the silent air.
I can only hope her aim has left with her mind.
TBC.
So, Ica, my little impatient reader (j/k), this one's for you!
Enjoy, everyone, and thank you so much,
~Joey~
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
-The Hours After-
Chapter 17
The rush and sheer shock of the moment halt all momentum. I can feel the light rise and fall of my chest counting out the milliseconds before I respond. Truthfully, I don't know how I'm supposed to react to this. I feel so devastated and lost, and I can honestly say that at this very moment, I just want to die. I don't want to see what comes of this, because deep down in my heart, I know that no outcome could be favorable.
I feel the sudden urge to bolt forward, but at the same time, I want to curl up in a ball on the floor and never face the world again. Nothing about anything makes sense. And worse, I can't even begin to fathom what I would do if I were to make the wrong decision on what action to take. I certainly wouldn't be able to live with myself.
I thought I heard somewhere that in these high-stress environments, the inner 'emergency' control is supposed to click on. I can't say I feel it - in fact, I feel so completely out of control it makes my whole body shake in fear. I try to yell, but I can't open my mouth. I try desperately to move, but my feet resemble two sticks in mud, the more I struggle, the deeper I sink with no hope of rescue.
My vision is hazy, and the pounding resonates in my head so loudly, that I'm sure it's the only audible sound in the entire building. Through my distorted sight, I catch a glimpse of Faith's terrified eyes. Though her fear is clear, I know her well enough to recognize that she's sad. I can see it behind her forthright emotions - I can see what other people can't. If only such a useless skill could help me -or her- right now.
I have only been standing here for nine or ten seconds, but I'm sure the visions and emotions of this moment will haunt me for the rest of my life. I tear my eyes away from Faith's knowing that the longer I take in her distress, the less chance I will actually find the strength to act. This is it, I mean, have to do something.
I look down at the floor and try to swallow, subconsciously knowing I will have to use my voice, though I haven't a clue what I'm actually going to say.
"Boscorelli," though spoken quite quietly, the sound is deafening and causes me to flinch in surprise and anger. "You," she takes her gun away from Faith's head for a second, making a swirling gesture with the barrel to emphasize just how much she much despises me. The feeling is mutual.
"You just had to go and make it all RIGHT." she smiles sadistically before shooting her dark eyes back in my direction. "You STUPID SON OF A BITCH!"
She's laughing now, and my stomach turns at the sickening sound. Nothing about this scenario calls for laughter.
"You were never smart, were you? I could have asked you to sign a piece of paper that said you murdered some innocent soul, and you know what? You would have done it."
I'm not sure what she's trying to get at here. I'm pretty sure that everyone in this building already has an opinion on my degree of stupidity. I don't think much convincing was involved.
She pauses and does everything but shoot daggers out of her eyes. Does she expect me to say something? Defend myself? I don't need her to tell me what I moron I am for trusting her. I already know that. I don't see why Faith has to suffer for my low IQ and lack of common sense.
"So, this is how it has to be. I have to hold a gun to a New York City police officer, because YOU just couldn't follow the plan. You're... You're AN IDIOT, BOSCORELLI!"
I hear her, but her voice is wavering. It takes me a second to realize that it's not her, it's me. I can't hold a steady feed of all the sensory stimulation that's being thrown in my direction. I blink, but the efforts are futile. Things are changing shades and shapes and I feel like I'm tilting sideways despite the fact that I can feel my feet firmly panted on the floor below me. Something's really not right here.
I don't know if I'm going to last long enough to actually do anything. Cruz seems to have stopped her 'Bosco has no brain' speech for the time being. I don't know why, but I feel like I've missed something, though I'm almost positive I heard every word she said.
I turn my eyes sideways slightly, and I can just barely make out Davis' grim face. He too looks sad, like he's attending a funeral. I wish he would do something. Can't anyone in this freakin' room DO SOMETHING? Because right now, I'm not so sure I can.
I suddenly feel a choking sensation grip my throat. Oh shit, I can't breathe. There's a loud ringing in my ears and I feel my feet stumble forward to catch my faltering body. There's a hand on my shoulder and it manages to pull me backwards a step, preventing me from falling on my face. I still can't breathe, and my once wavering eye-sight has now completely failed me - a sea of white becomes my only visual.
I know I haven't passed out, because I can feel someone's hand on my back. I don't know who it is, and I don't care to find out. The ringing is sporadically interrupted by the shrill yelling of Cruz. I think she's telling me to stand up. I figure she's either talking to me or Faith, and last I saw, Faith was standing, but then again, so was I.
I don't remember falling, and I can no longer tell if I'm standing or lying down. I might as well be suspended in mid air because I'm pretty sure this is what it feels like to be floating. Someone's quietly talking in my ear, telling me to breathe. I know I'm breathing because first of all, I can hear myself gasping as I struggle to inhale, and second of all, I wouldn't be conscious right now if I hadn't been taking in oxygen for the last minute.
There's a steady fluctuation in temperature. One second I'm boiling hot, the next I'm freezing cold. Though I'd rather be in the middle, I think that I would prefer one steady extreme over the drastic changes that cause my whole body to shudder in shock. What scares me even more is that I'm getting used to this. I never thought I would appreciate the fear that accompanies such a severe reaction, but it's scarier to think that it's normal. Is this what I've become? I thought I'd eat my gun - or at least have someone feed it to me - before I got to this point.
At the very least, I think I've distracted Cruz's attention for the time being. Maybe if she thinks I'm dying, she'll feel she's accomplished her goal and let Faith go. Wow, apparently I've become naïve in my illness.
Spots of color begin to replace the whiteness, and slowly I begin to make out rough shapes and figures. The ringing is still apparent, but I can hear the voices of those around me through the aggravating noise. One by one, my senses restore to a less than adequate level, but at least it's something.
I can see again, and after blinking several times, I am surprised to see that I'm not lying down, as I had assumed. In fact, I haven't moved an inch. The only person that seems to have changed position is Davis, who's now at my side, holding onto my shoulder with a firm grasp.
I look at him questioningly, and he seems to understand my confusion. What the hell just happened here? Did anyone even notice that I was completely separated from my body? Apparently not. Cruz still has that 'I hate the world' look on her face and Faith is exactly how I left her - terrified.
Who was Cruz telling to stand up? Was I hallucinating? Maybe someone grabbed a gun. Stupid bastards, if there's one thing I learned, it's that Cruz sees EVERYTHING. I think she might just actually be Satan.
"Look what you did!"
Who? Me? What the hell is this crazy bitch talking about? Last I checked, she's the one that's holding a gun to the head of a fellow employee. I don't think I had very much to do with it.
"Is this what you wanted all along? I know you don't give a rat's ass about yourself, Bosco, but there are other ways to get to people. You showed me your soft spot and I went in for the kill. That's what I mean, Boscorelli - you don't use your head."
I might not use mine, but I'm pretty sure she's lost hers. She's completely out of control. I'M completely out of control. No one can do anything. What does she want? She hasn't even made any requests.
"So, someone's going down today, and there's gonna be no more of this bull shit. I'm almost positive no one's going to miss their target this time," she says while pushing the gun forcefully into Faith's temple.
"So who's it gonna be, Bosco? You?" she asks, tilting the gun in my direction, "Me? Or her?" she says the last part with a smile on her face. I think I'm gonna throw-up.
"What do…" I stop to retry, as my voice did not cooperate, "What do you want, Cruz?" It comes out raspy, but comprehendible.
"What do I want? I WANT SOMEONE TO PAY! You little DO GOODERS haven't put away HALF as much scum as I have, and now you've all DECIDED that I'm just TOO MUCH FOR YOU? Well THAT just doesn't CUT IT! So now, I've got to take matters into my own hands. Clearly," she says nodding at Faith, "I have."
"So, why not me?" I know I'm swaying, but I have to remain focused - this is just too important.
"YOU weren't the one in that room. YOU weren't telling me that I'm going to spend the rest of my life in prison. And more importantly, YOU weren't here."
"But now I am."
"Now you are," she agrees. I might actually be getting somewhere.
"So why don't you just take me?"
"Take you where, Bosco?"
Is she kidding me? Is this turning into a word game? I don't want to play her messed up games anymore. I'm far too tired for this. Just take the gun away from Faith's head.
I don't know how to respond to her last question. I subtly gaze around the room and see that there are only four or five other people present - all equally shell shocked. Swersky looks like he's going to cry. The other three are statues in the cross-fire of words. Davis is my physical support, making sure I remain standing.
The physical and emotional distress combine to form the most uncomfortable of all pains. I can't imagine feeling any worse. This has got to be rock bottom.
"Are you gonna do something?" I might as well ask her what I'm thinking. She's certainly not giving me any free answers.
"Am I going to DO something? You're DAMN RIGHT I'm gonna DO something!"
"Jesus, Cruz," my voice has dropped in it's increasing shakiness, "You're one crazy bitch."
I regret the words before they even completely exit my mouth. I know that being called a bitch sets her off like a firecracker.
She doesn't even bother responding with words, but instead she throws Faith to the ground. Davis quickly removes his hand from my shoulder and I stumble forward. Before I can regain my balance and return my gaze to Cruz, the deafening crack of repetitive gunfire cuts through the silent air.
I can only hope her aim has left with her mind.
TBC.